The Stranger
by Terisis
Summary: A prisoner is sent to Morrowind unexpectedly. He arrives a penniless beggar, and a victim of fate. He shall become a victim of prophesy. This story is on hiatus and is not likely to return in the foreseeable future.
1. Chapter 1

Preface: I make no claim to this story. I am simply playing in Bethesda's sandbox. Any infringement, insult, or insanity that occurs from reading this story is entirely unintentional.

I will take some liberties of course, as the character is my own.

First time writing a fanfic, ever. In fact, my first time writing anything outside of a classroom. I might screw up. Be brutal in criticism. Don't hold any punches.

Chapter 1: Arrival of a stranger

Saleg reviewed the situation. It seemed as if his luck had been all negative ever since he was born. He had grown to live with this fact over the years.

"Saleg. My name is Saleg."

"Well Saleg, you got a last name?"

"Don't remember."

"You don't remember? Where did you come from?"

"Prison."

"Prison?"

"That's what I said, dumbass."

"Whoa now. No need to get snippy."

On the day he was born, his mother gave him up, not to a healer, priest, or any living soul, but to the streets.

"You demanded everything I had to my name, save the clothes on my back. Excuse me for not being happy about that."

"And if'n you know whas' good for you, you'll give it all up!" the larger, and obviously, dumber of the two thugs said.

He fought through though. Gotten off the streets. But he got himself into the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Ok. It's given." Not a single septim had changed hands.

"Yeah!" the larger man exclaimed. "We wins again!"

"Shut up," his partner demanded. "He hasn't given us anything."

"Oh. Well why nots?"

"'Cause the n'wah wants to die."

"No," Saleg responded. "'Cause the n'wah has nothing."

Got himself thrown in prison for a murder he did not commit.

"You're an outlander. You gots to have something," the less dimwitted of the partners said to him.

"I was in prison, moron. Remember? Are you always this slow? Why don't you let the brains of your operation speak?" It was a bluff. He really didn't want the partner to say a word. But it was a grave insult, and that's what the conversation had turned into.

"I's gonna let you go, s'wit. But for that last comment, you will pay," he said, pulling out a dagger.

Of course, he had to become a murderer in prison. Either that or become a victim. Kill or be killed.

As the man with the dagger charged, Saleg ducked, and dagger-man went over the bar. Meanwhile his slower-in-thought partner displayed an amazing speed in combat. Saleg was faster though, and sidestepped the axe coming down on his head. It crashed into the bar… but only after cutting off the hand of his partner, who was trying to get up. He screamed, and the barkeep had had enough. He threw the whole lot of them out, first the dimwit, then his partner, then Saleg, then the dismembered hand. The fight would have carried out in the street, except that the two partners started a new fight: between each other. Saleg ran down the street with sounds of the dagger-man screaming "You cut off my hand! You bastard!" echoing in the background.

Then he'd been suddenly released in this dinky port city of Seyda Neen. No explanation. Just orders. Unexplained orders to go to Balmora and deliver a package.

As he tossed the package in his hands and took to the idea of sleeping in the streets again, he wondered at why his luck had turned so bad. What he had done to the gods or fate or whatever controlled his unfortunate destiny? And what would said force throw at him next?


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Can't break from my sins

Saleg was a thief.

He had always been a thief. Not for the advancement of his own ends, or the thrill of the hunt. No. He had taken to the ancient profession for the ancient reason. Necessity can cause even the most harmonious to turn to chaos. So when one born to chaos turns to the blessed disorder that theft provides, there is no need to weep. The poor man doesn't decide his fate, but most are smart enough not to fight it.

But Saleg was different. He fought the constant battle with his conscience every time necessity called for him to pick a pocket. He fought his fate, and never stopped fighting, and suffered daily for it. Those who turned to thievery for thrill be damned, for he could never enjoy it.

But necessity doesn't stop because you will it to.

"Stop the thief!"

"Get him!"

He ran. He ran as quickly as he could, and didn't stop until he was out of eyesight of the guards chasing him.

He had stayed in the port city of Seyda Neen for about ten days. It took three days for the small stipend the Census and Excise boys had given him to run out buying food from the only tradehouse in town. That left one week. With no trade to speak of, and no skills to use, he turned back to his only real gift: getting in trouble with local law enforcement. Funny, he thought, how often I get run out of town before a week goes by. At least I have a little money, if I ever find a place to buy something to eat.

Before long he came upon another sleepy village. Pelagiad, as he was to later find out. He was lucky. To get lost in Morrowind as unprepared as he was at that time is usually a certain death sentence. He had a few septims in his pocket for lunch and….

…And a knife in the belly.

Another Dark Elf. One who shared Saleg's own race… But not his culture. Saleg saw hatred in the Dunmer's eye. He saw hatred and anger, all because of the way he walked…

"Outlander Dunmer," the bitter Dark Elf hissed lowly. "The worst traitor to his own kind." With that the attacker twisted the knife in Saleg's gut. Saleg thought quickly. His stay in the glorious high security prison in the Imperial City had dulled his few skills. But one skill that was secured, even reinforced, in his dark cell and prison yards and labor camps, was the ability to take a makeshift knife and stay upright... and breathing. He had been forced to stay standing. Those who fall in prison are fair game to all prisoners, gang loyalties ceased for those few moments. Very few ever got back up again, and those who did often wished they hadn't.

He pushed his attacker off, and contemplated calling the local guard. Screaming might not do so well when an attacker is aiming a knife at your gut.

"Sleepers awake, traitor Dunmer, and you shall be the first victim. A fine blood to spill for Dagoth Ur." At the last foreign word, the mugger committed to his attack. Saleg grabbed the arm of the assailant and drove his elbow upwards, bending it the wrong way and breaking his arm. He felt the swell of pride in fighting off his mystery attacker, until the Dunmer swung his other arm. This time, the dagger went higher, better aimed with little thought of stealth this time. Saleg could feel himself starting to cough up blood, when everything went black.


	3. Chapter 3

_English is my first language. Chapters get longer a bit later, but I end them when they're still good. I have a tendency to beat a topic to death if I spend too much time on it.  
_

Chapter 3: A New Friend

Ra Jeen was discussing his friend's condition with the guard just outside the cell. Or screaming at the guard to get help. In all fairness, he had started by asking politely.

"He will die!"

"That's really not my concern. One less criminal to watch."

The conversation had gone from pleasant to screaming pretty quickly. The guard wouldn't budge, though. "He got himself here. If he dies, so be it. And if he lives, he won't be causing trouble for a few days. Both serve the same purpose to me."

"…Ra… Ra Jeen…" the Dark Elf sputtered out weakly.

The Khajiit was fast to be at his friend's side. "Yes, Saleg, what is it?"

"Tell the guard… tell him… to slit his own throat… on his next break."

With that, Saleg passed out. And when he woke up next, he arose in the infirmary, to the site of a pretty Khajiit woman nursing his wounds, and telling the infirmary guard that he was ready to be transferred to Morrowind.

--------------------

"…looks like he might be alright. How long has she been taking care of him?"

"Long enough. I think she feels guilty. Says Dralas threatened her first. Only reason he didn't attack her, I figure is the guard in the tradehouse."

"Did anyone see this coming?"

"No. It's odd. He's always been an upright citizen. Never so much as an argument out of him. He was always so quiet. I guess it's true… Look, I think he's waking up."

The first thing Saleg saw as he opened his eyes was the bright glare off of the eyes of a beautiful Khajiit woman.

He was confused. "Am… am I in Morrowind?" he asked, wondering whether it was all a dream and he was still in the Imperial city's prison infirmary, or if he really had just happened to wake up again to yet another gorgeous cat-woman who made his heart skip a beat.

"Ahnassi welcomes you back to the world of the living, Dunmer. May Ahnassi ask his name?"

"Saleg."

"Well than, Saleg," the healer said, "As Ahnassi said, welcome back. We almost lost you. I'm Ygfa. You were smart not to pull out the dagger."

"Wasn't my idea… Passed out after the second hit."

Suddenly the guard captain who was speaking with Ygfa came over. "The one through your lung?"

"Yeah."

"He was gonna finish you off with one in the throat until one of our guards charged him. We got him in the cells downstairs. You're lucky Ahnassi saw you and called someone."

"He said something to me. Something about Dagoth Ur and sleepers awake?" Saleg tried hard to think back to the conversation, but it was mostly blurry from the loss of blood, and the fact that at the time, the speaker had been trying to gut him like a slaughterfish.

"Words of a madman, really. Dagoth Ur was the enemy of the Tribunal, but he was killed right before their ascension," Ygfa said, putting more questions into the mind of Saleg than answers.

"What?" Saleg demanded.

"It is not really important," Ahnassi said. For a while now she had been silent, only staring at Saleg. She never broke the concentration. "Ahnassi will stay with new friend, Saleg, until he heals. You should get some sleep."

"You're right Ahnassi. But you really must get off of his lap for him to sleep," Ygfa said with a smile. "Though he sure seems to enjoy it."


	4. Chapter 4

_Not really happy with this one, but I was going mad trying to fix it. No pun intended.  
_

_And what was that about the duct tape? _

Chapter 4: Sanity Amongst the Mad

For several days, Ahnassi had been tending her patient's wounds. It hadn't taken long for them to get to talking. They spoke of their past, Ahnassi's coming a little easier than Saleg's hard upbringing. They spoke of what brought them to Morrowind, Saleg's mysterious package peaking Ahnassi's interest, while Ahnassi's chasing of a mate in trouble sunk Saleg's spirits a bit. He didn't know why he was thinking about her like that. But he really had gotten his hopes up. Ahnassi either didn't notice or just didn't say anything. He was just recounting his stay in prison for Ahnassi, noting that for the first time in a long time, he had found someone he actually trusted, when Ygfa walked in.

"I thought you should know there's a messenger from Seyda Neen asking about you. In regards to a theft. They sound serious."

"Oh no," Saleg sighed. "I was in Seyda Neen. I had to steal money for food. They must have tracked me here. I've gotta…"

Ygfa cut in. "Not for you. They're asking about Ahnassi."

"But Ahnassi… Ahnassi was never in Seyda Neen."

"Well apparently, they have a witness to the contrary. They want her to stand trial," Ygfa explained. She turned to Ahnassi. "I would suggest getting this cleared up before it gets blown out of proportion."

"No problem. I'll just explain what happened and…" He was cut off by an odd stare by Ygfa. "What?"

"The witness had a word about you, as well. Something about being mad, seeing things that weren't real, that sort of thing."

"That's an outright lie!"

"Well apparently, it was believed by the authorities. You're being sent to Balmora to stand against an inquisition by the Tribunal Temple." Ygfa said, holding up a hand to silence the outburst that she knew was coming. "The Imperial Cult can't hold off an inquisition. Local law and all that. I wouldn't worry too much about the inquisition. You're must only be accused without evidence or testimony by a church member or you would be sent to the High Fane. But Ahnassi… Apparently they have strong evidence against you. Planted, maybe, but strong anyway."

"I have to…" Saleg started.

"Save it, Saleg. The less you speak on her behalf, the better a chance Ahnassi has. No one trusts a madman, even an accused one, until he is declared sane. And Seyda Neen has strong anti-imperial undertones. If you say it was all you, Ahnassi will be none the better and you WILL be sent to the High Fane. The sooner your escort gets here the better off she is."

"So I'm to be put under guard, and sent to Balmora?" Saleg asked when his armed escort arrived.

"Yes," the surly guard replied.

"And the weapons? For my protection?"

"No, for ours."

"Ah." He turned to Ahnassi, wincing at seeing her in chains. "I will be back. As soon as I can. I will help you. Once I am declared sane, this farce of a trial will be over."

"I know. Goodbye Saleg."

"No goodbyes. It won't be long until I'm back. I'll get you out. I promise."


	5. Chapter 5

_Much happier with this one, especially the end.  
_

Chapter 5: The First Meeting

"The accusations against you have been dropped. If you wish to return to Pelagiad, escort can be provided in two days time. Until then, a room has been rented in your name at the South Wall Cornerclub. You are hereby cleared of charges and dismissed."

"Two days!?" Saleg nearly screamed at the priest."You forcibly marched me out of Pelagiad, where a friend of mine was under arrest, and I have to wait two days to go back!?"

"Be glad we offered escort back at all. We could have let you walk."

"I can't wait two days! My friend is in trouble!"

"Then walk. It would save us the trouble."

"But…"

"Look," the priest said, disgusted. "Walk it or wait. I don't care which. But if you don't leave, I will have you kicked you out."

----------

That night, Saleg resigned himself to a quiet drink at the bar before going up to his room at the South Wall. It was a small cornerclub on the poor side of town. Like most poor town cornerclubs, it was packed with all sorts of degenerates. Whores, gamblers, addicts, drunkards, and thieves alike made up the crowd. Saleg wondered at just how cheap the Temple really was. And they were supposed to be so generous. At least he could afford alcohol. As usual when he had money in his pocket, one drink turned into several…And then several more. He woke up with a hangover, and considerably less in his pocket. Unfortunately, he learned this after he had eaten his breakfast.

"This doesn't cover the meal, Dunmer."

"It's all I got."

"That can't be true, cause now, you got a problem with me."

An old man who had passed out earlier that night woke up and muttered something unintelligible, before putting down the exact amount Saleg was short, pointed at him, and then stalked out. Saleg just stared at the doorway, then glanced back at the keep.

"You're lucky Old Caius bailed you out. Wouldn't depend on it happening again."

"That was Caius? Caius Cosades?"

"Yeah. Sugar toothed Cosades. Lives just up the hill and down the road. Doesn't know half of what goes on. Usually winds up making a fool of hisself. Careful going up there. He's not the friendly type."

-----------

Saleg was back in his room, tossing that package around yet again. He had taken to like tossing it around. He had another day to waste before his escort would arrive again in Balmora and take him to Pelagiad. Might as well feed the curiosity.

He followed the directions given by the irate barman and walked up to the door. He knocked once and waited… And waited. He knocked again, louder this time.

The old man from the bar opened the door, shirtless and with his pants in tatters.

"Who're you?" the man slurred. He looked drunk, but with a more vacant look in his eyes than that of drunkenness. He suddenly got a bright look in his eye. "You here for a card game?" He asked, excitedly. "We play for fingers!"

"Caius Cosades? I was sent to deliver a package…" Saleg began.

"I know that!" the man suddenly exclaimed. "Come in. Cards."

Saleg began wondering whether the world had truly gone mad. Until he closed Caius's door. The stupor and swaying stopped suddenly, and the real Caius came forward. The transformation before Saleg's eyes was incredible. He wondered if he had really been seeing this pillar of strength stumble through the South Wall, or if he had truly been under the slavery of the skooma, which Caius seemed to so shamelessly decorate his home with and Saleg assumed was the cause of his vacant, drunken swaying. He had undergone an odd change of demeanor, and his only words to his new visitor…

"So. You said you had a package for me?"


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Blood Ransom

"So you said you have a package for me?" Caius asked.

Saleg stood there, shocked. Saleg grew up on the streets, survived prisons, toiled in labor yards, fought through poverty, and shrugged off the dangerous underworld that prostitution creates. It took a lot to shock him.

"The package? Are you ever going to give me my package?"

"…Ye… yes, of course," he managed to stammer out. He shoved it into Caius's outstretched hand.

Caius opened it, looked it over, then sat down. He stood up again, and started pacing, reading it more closely. "Alright," he finally said.

"So I can go now?" Saleg asked, hopefully. Something about this odd man bothered him. He looked as if he could snap a man's neck with his bare hands if he wanted to.

"No, stay," Caius said simply. Saleg stood motionless. "Alright," he said again, as if he was in a discussion with a superior. One only he could see. This disturbed Saleg even more. "So, it says here a lot of what I already know. It also says you are to be conscripted in and be an agent under my command. Which means you'll be following my orders." He stopped.

"Look Mr. Cosades, I'd love to, but I don't even know what you're talking about."

"You're right, you don't. And you won't." Caius said. "But you will follow my orders."

"I was released from prison. I don't follow orders too well."

"You'll follow these if you know what's good for you."

Saleg couldn't help but hesitate. "What did you say to me? Was that a threat?"

"It is whatever you want it to be," Caius responded, in his same flat tone that was starting to move on from a simple annoyance to an act of open hostility. "Call it a guarantee."

"Don't respond well to those either."

"Say what you will, I need you. And you need me."

"Now that's where you are wrong, Caius. I delivered your package. I did my good deed for the day." The words seemed to roll off his tongue like venom. "Now, you threaten me, and threaten with nothing to back it up. So here's what's gonna happen. I'm gonna walk out that door. And you're gonna let me. We'll probably never see each other again. And that's fine. I'll go back to my life, and you'll go back to your freak show of a life." He turned to walk out.

"You want to see Ahnassi?" Caius asked.

Saleg stopped midstride.

"What did you just say?"

"I only ask because I can make it so you never will. See her, I mean."

He turned. "You son of a bitch!"

"Have a source in prison. Owes me big. And can make it so she can never walk again. Or see. Or smell. I hear that's important to a Khajiit. The sense of smell."

"You… you…"

"Like I said before, a lot of that package is things I already knew. As I also said before I need you. And now you know why you need me. As I also said, you WILL follow my orders. I can guarantee that."

"You ransom the life of an innocent. You son of a bitch!"

"The stakes are high, and I'm desperate. I didn't want to bring her into this. But you forced me to play my hand."

Saleg knew this was futile. "Fine," he said. "I'll do this. And then, you'll free Ahnassi."

"No, no, no. I make the rules here. When I decide you've served your purpose, then, and only then, will Ahnassi go free."

He sighed, defeated. "I have no real decision in this, do I?"

"No."

"Fine then."

"Well then, Saleg. Welcome to the Blades."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: How to make a spy

"First things first. You're going to need a cover. What is it you do best?" Caius asked.

"Survive," Saleg replied

"Right." Caius answered. "Survive. Yeah, that'll do." He paced. "You grew up on the streets, right?"

"Yeah."

"Shouldn't be too hard to reprise that role. Develop a reputation on the streets." Caius sat down.

"You'll be meeting with a few people of different economic statuses though. Street walking will help with some, but it may be odd to meet with the middle class as a beggar.

"I'd prefer you to develop a rep as a small time dealer. Should cover your meets with me."

"And how will I afford that? Dealing takes money. Money I don't have."

"Don't worry. The Blade's have resources. What you need will be provided, either in goods or cash for those goods." Caius was reassuring, another giant leap from the threats. "We'll play it up or down as need be. When you need to rejoin the streets, a big bust on a supplier hurting your business. Then a daring escape by your sources or a big bribe to bolster opinion of you to rejoin the moneyed crowd. You'll be loved and hated in the underworld."

"And my extra-curricular activities?" Saleg asked.

"Raid on a rival. Hunting down someone who stiffed you. Fighting a gang war. Whatever. If need be, we can plant evidence of an operation or plan a drug war. Your activities will be covered up. No worries. I would suggest joining the Thieves Guild. Add an extra layer to your cover. You'll still be questioned if you go where you're not supposed to be. But it'll throw them off our trail."

"Sounds good," Saleg replied weakly.

"Don't rise too far, though. Or too fast. We don't want people questioning you more than necessary. Keep your head down." Caius stood up again. Saleg wondered how much was the skooma and how much was him being nervous. "They won't like your dealing. But they will tolerate it. After we're through go down the hill and look for Nine-Toes. He'll act as a middleman when you're cover doesn't call for a face-to-face meet. He'll also be a provider for your contraband and an advisor in getting started. Also, buy a weapon. You'll need it. I suggest some sort of dagger. Easy to conceal."

"And Ahnassi?" Saleg asked.

"You stay on course, she'll be free. You abandon me and the Blade's, and her blood will be on your hands. She's your friend. I don't want to do anything. But I will. You sell us out, I sell you out. Don't tell anyone about your involvement in the Blade's. In fact, don't even mention us. If you get in trouble, leave a message at the South Wall with the barkeep. Tell her it's for some friends. Plural. Friends. Make it sound innocuous enough. Leave it to Seridyn. Memorize the spelling of the word. S-E-R-I-D-Y-N. If the request for aid is made under duress, switch the i and the y."

"You spy folk are pretty particular, aren't you?"

"Trust me. If anything happens, you'll be happy we're so particular. Until I have need of you, find an alley or an abandoned home. Make a name for yourself. Not enough to make a noticeable splash. Just enough to explain your whereabouts."

"Alright." Saleg got up from his seat and took a step to the door.

"One more thing."

"Yeah?"

"Watch your back in Balmora. Wouldn't want to have to find a new agent."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Guilt of the innocent, innocent of guilt.

Saleg hated this.

"It's the only way," Nine-Toes had told him before the first time. "You have to do this. You have to build your reputation."

He took the turn down the alleyway, and approached Valadin. "Valadeen, Valadeen, Valadeen," he said, purposefully mispronouncing his name. He remembered how much Valadin hated that. "I got you three vials of skooma. Fronted you some of my hard-earned cash." He stressed the hard-earned part. "I check back with you, and you tell me you can only pay me for two. Tell me you'll come up with the cash." At this point he picked Valadin up by his shirt. He worried that the shirt might rip, breaking the picturesque scene. To his credit, Valadin looked as though he might piss himself.

"S...Saleg. I need more time. Just a few more d…days."

"I work independent, you see." He flashed the toothy grin that he learned over the past three months could scare a lot more than any grimace. Make them feel like you could do anything, including smile in the midst of a shakedown. Make them think you just might be insane "When I lose money, I don't have anyone to stave off the cost. I gotta eat into my... spending money." He turned his face into a deep, intimidating grimace. "So you can see why I don't like losing my money." Saleg dropped Valadin.

"Just a few more days. I'm begging you! Please!"

"When I lose money, I get an urge to cut something." Saleg drew his dagger, stained with the dried blood of others who had stiffed him, as well as a few rivals.

"Please, no! A few more days, and I'll get your money!"

Saleg leaned down, rubbing his dagger on the face of "his" addict. It was amazing, even to him, how possessive he had become on the matter of people. He refused to traffic in slaves, but treated these people he had in thrall as if that was exactly what they were. He ended his quiet introspection by leaning in to the weak addict, quickly grabbing one of his fingers, breaking it, and then making a quick chop. He had worked the gruesome task into an art, making it flow as though all these acts were joined as one.

"You have two days before it's a hand I add to my collection," he said, putting the finger in a small pouch after wrapping it in a bandanna. "I don't like doing this, Valadin. But I absolutely despise losing money. Two days. No more." He flashed that toothy grin yet again, sheathing his dagger. "Pleasure doing business with you."

He returned to the home he kept on the poor side of town. He waited until he shut and barred the door before collapsing on the floor, sobbing quietly. He hated this. At one point, he had been on the other side of that sort of exchange. He rubbed the scar down the side of his arm, before picking up his pouch and throwing it to the other side of the room. When the pouch flew open and he was forced to come face-to-face with the evidence of his crime yet again, his sobbing became more intense. He was disgusted. He felt his stomach churn at the very thought of doing it again. But he had two more people to shake down. He crawled to the bin near the bed, and threw up. He didn't know how long he could keep this up. The only thing he could think about was how good an actor he had become. He crawled into bed, and curled up into a ball.

"Damn the Blades," he said to no one in particular. "Damn my cover. To hell with all of this. I'm done."

He closed his eyes.


	9. Chapter 9

_Could be a short delay in adding new chapters. Not noticeable, but not as often as I had been updating. Previous engagements are getting in my way._

Chapter 9: Decent into madness

He opened his eyes. He saw a Khajiit's face. "Ahnassi, you're alright!" He jumped up and ran to her, wanting to give her a hug, surprising himself with the sudden burst of emotion. He was shocked when he ran into the wall behind her. He looked back towards her.

"You lied to me," Ahnassi said flatly.

"No, Ahnassi. No, I'm trying. I'm doing all I can," Saleg pleaded, hoping he could convince his friend.

"Bullshit! You swore you'd tell them it was you. That you killed that man."

"Killed? I didn't kill anyone!"

"You killed him! The skooma. You used the skooma to kill him!"

"Who?"

"You slowly killed him! You used the skooma!"

"I didn't kill anyone!"

"Yes you did!" Something wasn't right. Her voice was becoming more grainy, more twisted. Her face was distorting. Her mane was becoming scaly. Ahnassi disappeared, or seemed to, and in her place, Saleg saw Valadin looking at him accusingly. He raised a stump where his finger used to be. It had seemed to close on its own. "You killed me," Valadin said.

"I'm sorry!" Saleg screamed at the figure. "I'm sorry!"

"You killed me," was all Valadin said. Tears welled up in his eyes. "You killed me."

"I'm sorry!" Saleg sobbed. "What do you want from me? I'm sorry."

The stump opened and blood began to seep out, first slowly, then faster and faster until it seemed to fill the room.

Saleg was treading water, or blood, as it was. Then a hole opened up in the floor, and the blood drained out, taking Saleg with it. He fell. It felt like he fell forever. He hit the floor. As he lay there, bleeding from the hit from the floor, he looked over. He saw a tall figure with a golden mask, which walked up to him. As he or she came upon Saleg, it leaned down, held a hand over Saleg, and said something. Saleg looked down, and saw no blood, no wounds. He felt no pain.

Saleg opened his eyes to the familiar room. He looked around. No Ahnassi, no Valadin, no gold mask. Just the room, adorned shamefully with a dismembered finger.

----------

Saleg walked down the street in the cold night. He had given up on sleep. He had hoped to speak with Nine-Toes. Over the past few months, Nine-Toes had been his major contact with the Blades. He had provided him with the money and supplies to get started on his cover. He had also been great for advice. Saleg had spoken with him at length about the guilt associated with his cover. He had been as much a psychologist as a friend. He had provided him with status reports on Ahnassi, and no matter how painful the news was, he gave Saleg the honest truth.

But Nine-Toes wasn't home. So Saleg had gone to the one house he wanted so dearly to avoid. He knocked.

Caius opened the door, keeping his cover up as always. He backed away from the door, seemingly terrified. It was an odd situation. Caius was his superior in the Blades. But both of their covers required Saleg to act as though he had a real power over Caius. Caius screamed at the top of his lungs, "I'm paid up! I paid you! Please, no."

Saleg kept up his part of the deal. He didn't make house calls unless he was stiffed. "Prices go up old man," he said calmly, slamming the door. As soon as the door shut though, the cover dropped.

"Yes, Saleg, what do you need?" Caius calmly asked.

"Something to do. I talked to my Thieves Guild superior, and she says she doesn't have any new jobs yet. I feel like I'm losing my mind, Caius."

It was then he noticed Nine-Toes sitting at Caius's table. He nodded at the Argonian, in the style of the Blades he had learned. In one nod, he had told Nine-Toes that he could stay, that it was alright to talk, and he didn't have to hide anything. Nine-Toes wouldn't hide anything important, but until it became necessary, he wouldn't share personal information, even with the spymaster. It was amazing how quickly he had become accustomed to saying so much, without saying a word.

"Yes, I hear you have developed a penchant for removing fingers from those who don't pay. I was debating ordering you back here so we could talk about it. Good for your cover doesn't mean good for your psyche." Caius stood up and handed him a small pouch filled with money. "For a new trash bin."

"How did you…?"

"I told you Saleg. My job is to know things I shouldn't."

Nine-Toes spoke up. "And ours is to find out for you."

"Right," Saleg responded weakly. He knew from experience there was no point objecting to Nine-Toes' spying.

"So what's on your mind, Saleg?" Caius asked.

He told the two about his experience, starting from the time he got home. He knew that they already knew that part. But at the part of the dream, their interest peaked.

Nine-Toes drew out a long hiss, while Caius grilled him to give every detail.

"Look," Caius started, "my advice would be to keep a lid on this. You can talk to us, privately, of course. But the Temple takes this very seriously. And takes offense. They would probably want to get you locked up." Caius paced around the room. "I wouldn't take this too hard. The dream probably means nothing. And if it does, there's not much that can be done. Just don't tell anyone else about this."

"Yesss. Best to keep quiet," Nine-Toes chimed in.

"In the meantime, I have an assignment for you. You are to make contact with a source in the Fighter's Guild here in Balmora. Wait until you have a reason for being there. We'll try to manufacture something. His name is Hasphat Antabolis. A student of history, as it was. Ask him about the Sixth House and something called the Nerevarine Cult. You might have to do him a favor to earn his trust. Do it. Jot down some notes, and bring them back to me."

Caius saw the odd look on Saleg's face. "Just trust me, the guilt may not go away, but you do get numb to it. Eventually. If you didn't feel anything, you wouldn't be sane."

Saleg took a step toward the door. "Wait," Nine-Toes interrupted.

"Yeah?"

"A dealer can't leave a shakedown without doing something, and if it's money, you can't cover your return." Nine-Toes gave Saleg an odd smile. He knew how much Saleg blamed Caius for Ahnassi's imprisonment. "Caius, Saleg has to hit you."

"What?!" Caius exclaimed.

Saleg didn't wait. He immediately reprised his dealer role. He remembered his dream, remembered Ahnassi, pulled back his fist, and socked Caius in the eye.

Before Caius could recover, Nine-Toes winked at him, and odd thing to see an Argonian do, and he threw open the door.

As he slammed the door shut, he heard an angry Caius scream "you bastard!" a title he suspected was directed as much at Nine-Toes as it was to him.


	10. Chapter 10

_My apologies on the delays. Personal issues are pretty much worked out.  
_

Chapter 10: The Scum of the Rich

Saleg was sitting at yet another bar. Business this time, rather than pleasure. This one was a lot better than his usual place at the South Wall. Better drinks, comfortable stools, better music from a bard who wasn't just a shameless drunk playing a trashy lute he found in the dumpster. The whores touring the place were of a higher quality, too. Probably lacking whatever the latest crotch-rot was. He was waiting, as he had done for the past week, for his contact who was supposedly known for trolling this place. Over the past week though, he hadn't come in. It was starting to get ridiculous and Saleg was about to give up and find him and damn the damage done to his cover.

Just then, a strong, middle aged Imperial came walking through the door. Saleg was wowed by the quality of Caius' description of the man, if that truly was Hasphat. The man walked up to the bar, ordered some shein, and started feeling up one of the whores. Saleg remembered Nine-Toes' instructions on how to remain unnoticed and sidled up to the stool next to Hasphat.

He waited until the man's drink was just about empty, then ordered a drink for both he and the Imperial. The man turned toward him. It was amazing what a full glass can do to a man's disposition. He slapped Saleg on the shoulder, obviously geared up for a night of paying for his drinks.

"Hasphat Antabolis?" Saleg asked.

"Who's asking?" the Cyrodiil replied. Oh yeah, Saleg thought to himself, this is my guy.

"I believe we have a mutual acquaintance. I was hoping I could ask you a few questions. Swap some knowledge."

"Oh really?" Hasphat responded. "And just what knowledge would you be willing to offer?"

"Simply the fact that I am a friend of Cosades."

"Ah. So when you say you want to swap knowledge…"

Saleg finished his thought. "…I mean my favor and your information."

"Sure, I got something that might be worth a little information. Might just. And it should give me enough time to dip my wick in some of these pretty little things too," he said, slapping one of the whores on the butt as she went by. To her credit, she simply turned, gave him a seductive looking smile she had probably been working on in the mirror all day at least, and went on by. Saleg was disgusted by the whole act. But ever the actor, he kept up the façade, even as Hasphat was blatantly screaming across the bar how he was going to enjoy tying her to bed. He didn't like it, but there wasn't much he could do. He was curious at just what circumstance had originally brought Caius and Hasphat to the same place at the same time. He shook his head clear of his thoughts and tried to contain his disgust.

"What's the task, Hasphat?" he said, a little more emotion going into the statement than he had hoped. Hasphat didn't even notice.

"Well," he started, "on top of being a history buff, I'm also a collector of certain goods that some might consider a little below the level. Might even be considered illegal. Laws are made to get in a man's way after all." He wiped the snot from his nose on the sleeve of his shirt. Saleg was starting to get angry at every man who had ever called the poor classless, shameless scum of Nirn. Seeing this supposed high-class individual instilled in him a great pride in growing up poor. If this was how the rich acted, well, he was happy he picked a house on the other side of town. "But then again, I hear you have a healthy disrespect of the law yourself. Probably beat up poor Cosades in order to get my name."

He silently thanked Nine-Toes for his advice back at Caius' home. "I don't have any problem solving troubles outside of the normal legal boundaries, if that's what you're asking."

Hasphat laughed. "That's what I wanted to hear! Barkeep! Another round for me and my friend here." The keep slipped up and filled their glasses yet again. Hasphat waited until he slid back down before starting again. "Heard of a Dwemer ruin not far from 'ere. Called Arkngthand. Some excavation project or the other headed up there. I'm looking for a particular piece, rumored to be down there in the depths of the place. It's a small box, brown, called a Dwemer puzzle box. You bring me that box, I tell you what you need to know. 'Till then, I'm gonna try and bag me another whore." He spit across the bar before walking up and making a pass at woman who looked awfully familiar. Saleg had had enough, of Hasphat and his own memories. He muttered something unintelligible and left the bar.

----------------

Saleg wandered the streets of the city, trolling for yet another client. Julienne was sick, too sick to work, and all the prostitutes, male and female, were working even more in order to get money to help her out. Some, Saleg included, were risking even more, drugging and robbing some clients that they didn't think were going to be around to try to get retribution. It had always been the rule of the streets that you did all you could to help out those in need. He didn't play at being noble. Other people had what he needed, so he would take it. He didn't try to justify it beyond that.

He had walked into one of the hotspots for clients, and noted immediately at least four women and two other men working the same bar. Not enough competition to warrant changing areas for the night. He saw one Redguard woman he guessed was down on her luck just enough to warrant picking up a whore and made his move. He introduced himself as a connoisseur of sorts and peppered his speech with just enough hints to keep her comfortable, but make sure he was clear on exactly where he was going. He figured her for an out-of-towner, and when she said how she was due to return to the next town over in a couple of days, the trap was set.

After he had done his job, he made a quick work of slipping the sleeping drug into her glass of water on the nightstand. He returned later to rob her of almost everything she owned, leaving her with a simple set of clothes and enough drakes to get her a carriage to her destination. He had made a lot that night. Before he left her, as he always did, he turned and gave her one last kiss on the cheek. Had he only known that, years later, he would see her again in the far-flung province of Morrowind, and that she would be whoring here, he might have left her with something more than just the clothes in the closet and a carriage ride. He wondered whether things could have gone differently, or if fate would have brought her here anyways


End file.
